


Mine

by Kitashi



Series: Through Eyes of Courts and Fate [19]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: End of ACOMAF, F/M, Tamlin's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7943122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitashi/pseuds/Kitashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 64-69 of A Court of Mist and Fury from Tamlin’s POV.</p><p>Tamlin has worked tirelessly, sacrificed everything, to bring his love home to him in the Spring Court and save her from the clutches of his one time friend, the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand.</p><p>But even the most well-laid plans run into difficulties…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Has anyone else been crazy enough to write from this self-centered prick’s POV? No? Just me? lol
> 
> Sorry I’m not sorry. I’ve wanted to write this scene from Tamlin’s POV since I started writing fics again, back in May, because I was intrigued on how this scene would look from the other side of the spectrum. I’ve written this scene now from Lucien/Elain’s POV, and also Rhys, but there is just something interesting to me about writing from an antagonist’s POV, especially one who from what is presented in the book literally has no sense that there is even a possibility that he is in the wrong. At all.
> 
> And before anyone asks: no, I am NOT a Feylin shipper. (if my other fics haven’t told you that, then I don’t know what to tell you lol)
> 
> A BIG, HUMONGOUS THANK YOU to @illyriantremors, who is wonderful and kind, who read this over for me last night and encouraged me to keep writing it when I first told her about it, even when I almost scrapped it when I was halfway through it. You are the best of the best! <3
> 
> I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! :D

It had been a long road to get to this moment. After all the pain and suffering we had gone through… finally, Feyre would be able to come home. I looked at Lucien, who wouldn't meet my eyes. He had been more withdrawn lately, keeping more to himself as the plan to get Feyre back from the Night Court solidified. I no longer cared. Feyre was the love of my life. She had suffered so much for Prythian, for me… I couldn't wait to have her home. No matter what the cost.

“Now that I’ve held up my end of the bargain, I expect you to hold up yours,” the King of Hybern spoke loudly enough for us to hear him in the antechamber off of his throne room.

Lucien let out a sigh of resignation, and we walked into the light of the throne room.

Feyre was with a group of people I didn't recognize, save for Rhysand, who held up an injured Illyrian in between himself and another Illyrian that I recognized to be his general, Cassian. He snarled at me. There was also a blonde woman who matched my sentries’ description of Feyre's kidnapper. I kept my face as smooth as stone, though I would make sure she suffered the most after Rhysand for what they had done to Feyre.

I turned my gaze back to Feyre and we both took each other in.

She looked nothing like she had when I had last seen her. She fit Lucien’s report that she looked healthy, but what threw me off was what she wore; Illyrian fighting leathers, an Illyrian sword, and knives like the ones I wore on my bandolier, armed to the hilt. The way she stood with them was the most puzzling though. She stood with them like she… cared for them.

“No,” she breathed.

I took a step towards her. We had been separated for months now. It felt like we had gone Under the Mountain for a second time. Except now our roles were reversed, and she was the captive of Amarantha’s whore.

“No,” she said, louder this time, as if it would make the reality that I stood in front of her less true. Conditioning on Rhysand's part, no doubt.

Rhysand stood next to her. “What was the cost,” he asked, so quietly that I almost didn't hear him.

I ignored him and turned to the King of Hybern. “You have my word.” No cost was too great to get Feyre back. Not my Court, or my life. This was for our future.

The king smiled.

Feyre took a step towards me. “ _What have you done?_ ” She looked horrified to see me. I knew from Lucien that this had happened to him too, when he had found her in the Night Court mountains. I knew it was just Rhysand’s bargain, what he used to control her. Her words still stung though.

“We made a bargain,” the King said from his throne of aged bones. “I give you over, and he agrees to let my forces enter Prythian through his territory. And then use it as a base while we remove that ridiculous wall.”

Feyre shook her head, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She knew I had been trying to find a way to break that accursed bargain before she had been taken… did she really think I would stop because she wasn't with me? If anything, it had strengthened my resolve. She threw a pleading stare at Lucien, who remained ever silent behind me. It pissed me off that he wasn't helping, but I would... discuss that with him once we returned home.

“You're insane,” Cassian hissed, his hands inching towards his blades.

I held out a hand towards my love, my bride-to-be. I didn't care that the mating bond hadn't snapped into place yet. Once we got the chance to finally live our lives in peace, it wouldn't take long. I was sure of it.

“Feyre,” I called out. It was time for us to leave. The king could do whatever he wanted with these monsters. I knew Jurian had been begging to kill Rhysand, wanted to know who his friends were to make him suffer. As much as I wanted that honor, I wasn't against letting him have a swipe at him; Jurian wasn't strong enough to actually take him on by himself, so eventually I would get my wish. And if Rhysand took out Jurian in the process, well, I wouldn't object.

To my surprise, Feyre didn't move.

“You,” the king suddenly said, pointing a finger at Feyre, “are a very difficult female to get ahold of. Of course, we’ve also agreed that you’ll work for me once you've been returned to your husband, but… is it husband-to-be, or husband? I can't remember.”

“Tamlin,” Lucien murmured behind me. He had been against Feyre's involvement from the very start. I ignored him, my hand still held out.

“I'm taking you home.”

Feyre took a step back, towards her Night Court captors. She looked at me like she didn't know me at all. I knew this was just a side effect. Once she was freed from Rhysand's hold, everything would go back to normal. I could hear the king blathering on, something about Jurian and his bargains, but I paid them no heed. Jurian was insane and dangerous, but if Rhysand didn't kill him first, I would take care of him once Feyre was home. Once the Wall was down.

Feyre looked at me, her eyes like steel. “I'm not going anywhere with you.”

Her words were like a slap in the face. I had had nightmares of her saying things like this to me, ever since Lucien had come back after failing to retrieve her. Nightmares that she had died Under the Mountain and we hadn't been able to bring her back to life. That she had chosen Rhysand and would never come home.

“You’ll say differently, my dear,” the king said, “when I complete the final part of my bargain.” He jerked his chin towards her left arm, adorned with those harsh black tattoos. “Break that bond between you two.”

She looked horrified. “Please,” she whispered. Her tone wasn't what I expected though. She seemed genuinely distressed about this, though as to why I couldn't understand.

“How else is Tamlin to have his bride? He can't well have a wife who runs off to another male once a month.” Feyre turned to me, her eyes full of fear.

“Don't,” she said, her voice cracking. “Don't let him. I told you — I _told you_ that I was fine. That I left—”

“You weren't well,” I snarled at her. “He _used_ that bond to manipulate you. Why do you think I was gone so often? I was looking for a way to get you _free_. And you _left_.”

“I left because I was going to _die_ in that house!”

The King of Hybern clicked his tongue. “Not what you expected, is it?”

I growled at him, but held out my hand to Feyre again. “Come home with me. Now.”

“No.”

“Feyre.” My voice was steel. I had worked so tirelessly to bring her home. I wasn't going to give up now that I’d found her again, now that she was within my grasp. I would not give up as easily as Lucien did.

I could hear Jurian behind me, mumbling to himself about how he was going to kill them. The injured Illyrian being held up by Cassian and Rhysand tensed and filled with rage, and Cassian looked prepared to fight if necessary.

“I’ll come with you,” Feyre said softly, “if you leave them alone. Let them go.”

I could feel my face twist with rage at her terms. Let them go? She had to be joking.

“They’re monsters. They’re—” I stopped. They would just come back and we would start all over again. No, they were loose ends that needed to be tied up.

I stalked towards her. I was done arguing here. I was going to take her home, and the king could finish breaking the bargain in the Spring Court. I lunged the last few feet between us. Just a touch and we’d be home.

And she vanished.

I stumbled, trying to regain my balance.

I felt something hard connect with my face, knocking me backwards and sending me sprawling on the ground.

I blinked, my face aching from the blow. I wasn't even sure exactly what hit me, it was so fast. I rose from the ground, feeling what was likely blood dripping from my nose. I backed towards Lucien, who still hadn't moved, but at least had a hand on his sword now instead of standing there like a stump. I wiped away the blood, the injury healing rapidly.

Suddenly, a scent assaulted my nose. I staggered, not wanting to believe it could be true. I looked at Feyre, who now stood next to Rhysand, his arm looped around her waist protectively, his expression stone. I hadn't seen him like this since the night he and his father murdered my family, their supposed justice for my father killing his mother and sister. The day we had gone from friends to enemies.

But Feyre…

I hadn't noticed it before, not until I focused on them both at once. There was no difference. Her scent was the exact same as Rhysand's.

They had mated.

I felt my rage grow so potent it threatened to burst from my skin, my inner beast eager to destroy this monster who had taken my love from me and done _this_ to her.

The king laughed from his throne. “I don't believe it. Your bride left you only to find her mate. The Mother has a warped sense of humor, it seems. And what a talent — tell me girl: how did you unravel that spell?”

I looked at them, so enraged, but still hoping she would tell me he was mistaken; that it wasn't true.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sincere.

I looked at Rhysand, who still looked at me with a stony glare. “ _You_ ,” I snarled, my beast creeping into my voice. _“What did you do to her?”_

The doors behind them opened, and Hybern’s soldiers poured into the room. Good, that meant they were outnumbered, could hold them back while I got Feyre out of here away from that monster. The group, clearly battle-trained, looked around, sizing up their odds of survival.

“I'm not going with you,” Feyre spat at me. “And even if I did… You spineless, _stupid_ fool for selling us out to _him_! Do you know what he wants to do with that Cauldron?”

Honestly, I never cared. I still didn't, as long as her bargain and now that mating bond was broken.

How _dare_ he! How dare he take what is mine, like he had a right to her! She was _mine_ first!

The king still sat on his throne, watching all of this. “Oh, I'm going to do many, many things with it.”

And it appeared in front of him again.

“Starting now.”

Suddenly, a burst of power came from Feyre. She was talons, wings, and shadows, surrounded by water and fire. If I hadn't been so shocked by the display, I might have felt awe. That she had all this power...

Then she gasped, all of it disappearing like a snuffed out candle.

“Ah,” the king said, clicking his tongue, “that. Look at you. A child of all seven courts—like and unlike all. How the Cauldron purrs in your presence. Did you plan to use it? Destroy it? With that book, you could do anything you wished.”

She didn't answer. The king shrugged. “You’ll tell me soon enough.”

“I made no bargain with you,” she said defiantly.

“No, but your master did, so you will obey.”

She looked at me, enraged. If the king didn't have a grip on her powers, she would probably be a living flame. “If you bring me from here, if you take me from my mate,” she hissed, “I will _destroy_ you. I will destroy your court, and everything you hold dear.”

It was in that moment I knew that she really wasn't herself. The Feyre I knew would never act like this. She didn't even act this way with Amarantha, who had deserved it. I stared at her, stone-faced. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“No — she doesn't,” the king said suddenly. The doors opened again. “There will be no destroying.” Four women walked through the doors. Four _human_ women.

“Because,” the king said, guards falling into rank behind them, hauling something with them, “you will find, Feyre Archeron, that it is in your best interest to behave.”

The four women sneered at Feyre and the Night Court, hate in their eyes. I wondered what they had done to earn the hatred of these women.

And as they parted, more guards brought two more women, gagged and bound before the King of Hybern. They were in their nightgowns, torn and dirty; one was sobbing hysterically, the other fighting her bonds like a trapped wildcat.

Suddenly, I recognized them. It had been nearly a year since I’d seen them, and they had been cowering in a hovel then.

Feyre's sisters.

I looked at Lucien, who looked both horrified and livid all at the same time.

“You made a very big mistake the day you went after the Book,” the king said to Rhysand. “I had no need of it. I was content to let it lay hidden. But the moment your forces started sniffing around … I decided who better than to be my liaison than my newly reborn friend, Jurian?” The king began to blather on about Jurian, and the bargain he had made with the women — mortal queens it seemed — to work with them. I immediately became suspicious. The king had made a lot of bargains for someone who had no interest in conquest.

But I knew he had done a lot for me to get Feyre back. He had fulfilled what he had promised so far. All that was left was breaking her ties to Rhysand. What bothered me though was the presence of Feyre's sisters? And for that matter, _how_ he had managed to find them. They should have been protected by the glamour I’d put on their home, when I had given them wealth and contentment in exchange for Feyre.

“Such impressive attempts to infiltrate their sacred palace, Shadowsinger,” the king said with a smirk, his voice breaking my train of thought. I looked to see the king staring in the direction of the injured Illyrian. “And utter proof to their Majesties, of course, that your court is not as benevolent as you seem.”

Shadowsinger… of course. Rhysand was infamous for Cassian and his Shadowsinger Azriel, two of the reasons he held such power in his court. Nothing like fear to keep your subjects in line. Despite that Azriel was clearly under some control by the king, that did little to ease my nerves.

“Liar,” Feyre hissed, and whirled on the queens, taking a small step toward them, but staying close to Rhysand. “They are _liars_ , and if you do not let my sisters go, I will _slaughter_ —”

“Do you hear the threats, the language they use in the Night Court? Slaughter, ultimatums… They wish to end life. I desire to give it.” The King’s words were honeyed. Even I could see them for the trap they were. But Feyre's language and demeanor… I hoped that was something that could be dealt with once we got home, and she was away from that court.

The eldest looking queen spoke, ignoring Feyre as though she weren't there. “Then show us — prove this gift you mentioned.”

“You're a fool,” Rhysand said. He had pulled Feyre back against him, which only enraged me further. I wanted to rip his arms off, just to get them off of her.

“Is she?” the king asked. “Why submit to old age and ailments when what I offer is so much better? Eternal youth. Do you deny the benefits? A mortal queen becomes one who might reign forever. Of course, there are risks—the transition can be … difficult. But a strong-willed individual could survive.”

“Show us. Demonstrate it can be done, that it is safe.” The eldest spoke again.

The king nodded. “Why did you think I asked my dear friend Ianthe to see who Feyre Archeron would appreciate having with her for eternity?”

I felt a creeping cold in my gut. _Dear friend?_

Feyre’s head turned to the queens. “Oh, I asked them first. They deemed it too… uncouth to betray two young, misguided women. Ianthe had no such qualms. Consider it my wedding present for you both,” he added, looking at me.

“What?” There was something very wrong here.

The king cocked his head, the look on his face of the cat who caught the mouse, savoring every word. “I think the High Priestess was waiting until your return to tell you, but didn’t you ever ask why she believed I might be able to break the bargain? Why she had so many musings on the idea? So many millennia have the High Priestesses been forced to their knees for the High Lords. And during those years she dwelled in that foreign court… such an open mind, she has. Once we met, once I painted for her a portrait of a Prythian free of High Lords, where the High Priestesses might rule with grace and wisdom… she didn’t take much convincing.”

I barely heard him over the roaring in my ears. I felt physically sick. She had used me… Ianthe had used me to bring in Hybern. I thought of those nights that I had found her in my room, how she had been the chosen Maiden for the night of Calanmai...

She and I would be having a long talk after this. If I had my way, she’d be paying for her crimes _dearly._

“She sold out — she sold out Feyre's family. To you.” Lucien sounded as sick as I felt.

“Sold out?” The king snorted. “Or saved from the shackles of mortal death? Ianthe suggested they were both strong-willed women, like their sister. No doubt they’ll survive. And prove to the queens it _can_ be done. If one has the strength.”

“ _Don't you_ —” Feyre started.

The king cut her off. “I would suggest bracing yourselves.”

And then hell exploded in the hall.

Power barreled into everyone, nearly knocking us down, but most of it went towards Rhysand and his cohorts. I heard a shout of pain and suddenly an earsplitting scream. My heart sank. If Feyre had been hurt, I would kill the King, bargain or no.

As my vision cleared, I could see the source of the scream.

Cassian’s wings had been shredded under the magic the king had just blasted directly at them, as he had tried to protect Azriel. I felt nauseous looking at the blood gushing from what was left of his wings. But at least it wasn't Feyre.

Rhysand began to move, as though he would be able to stop the king all on his own, but another blast of power sent him to his knees. Perfect.

I ran towards Feyre. Now was my chance to get her out of here, with Rhysand away from her. She spotted me and suddenly hurtled a knife at me with deadly accuracy. I barely dove out of the way in time to avoid getting speared. I backed away as she pulled out a second one, and gaped at her. Feyre was an archer, not a knife thrower. There was no way she had been hiding this skill from me. The scent of that mating bond Rhysand had forced on her assaulted my nose even from this distance, and the thought of what else she had possibly endured in the Night Court just fueled my rage and resentment for those monsters.

I heard a loud, angry cry from near the throne. I looked up to see the blonde woman moving towards the king with deadly grace. She dodged a blast of power that the king sent straight towards her, only to stop short at a cry of pain from Azriel. Stopped not even a foot from the throne, as though she'd been frozen in place. Her knife landed on the steps with a clatter. The king rose from his throne.

“What a mighty queen you are,” he said to her. She backed away in horror. Step by step.

“What a prize,” he said, his interest clear. The shadowsinger, sprawled on the floor in his and the general’s blood, lifted his head.

 _“Don't you touch her.”_ His voice was laced with pain, but he looked murderous despite it. She looked back at him, and moved towards him, and covered his wound with her hand. He let out a hiss, but covered her hand with his own. I would need to remember that for later.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Rhysand had moved back between Feyre and the king as she knelt by the general, ripping at the leather covering her arm, as though there was something she could do.

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said abruptly. The guards picked the poor girl up and Feyre twisted, only to be grabbed by the king’s guards. Rhysand moved to fight them, but the Azriel let out a cry that made him pause; whatever the king had done to him, it was enough to bring even Rhysand to heel. The poor girl was shaking like a leaf as they dragged her to the Cauldron, her begging and screams muffled through her gag as Feyre watched in horror.

“Please refrain,” the king said, “from getting any stupid ideas, Rhysand. If any of you interfere, the shadowsinger dies. Pity about the other brute’s wings.” He gave her sisters a mocking bow. “Ladies, eternity awaits. Prove to their Majesties the Cauldron is safe for… strong-willed individuals.”

“Stop,” I ordered. The king ignored me, keeping his gaze on the struggling girl.

“Stop this.” Lucien actually spoke up, his voice serious. I could hear the remaining sister bellowing through her gag at the guards. No matter how much the other, smaller girl tried to resist, it was clear she was too weak against their strength. As they came closer to it, the Cauldron filled with liquid to the brim.

“This was not part of our deal,” I spat. This had gone too far. “ _Stop this now_.” Feyre’s sisters didn't ask for this. He grinned at the poor girl, triumph on his face.

“I don't care.”

My inner beast finally got the better of me, and I launched myself at him in a blinding rage, ready to rip him to shreds. Bargain or no, this had to stop. Feyre would never be able to accept if something happened to her sisters and I hadn't been able to stop it.

The white hot magic from before slammed into me, shoving me to the ground. I tried to get up, but I couldn't move. He had leashed me. I strained against the collar of light that had clasped around my neck and my wrists, trying to break free. I could see my power, but that was it; it didn't so much as touch my bonds. Another found its way to my mouth, effectively gagging me. My inner beast was snapping wildly, desperate to rip out the throat of this revealed threat.

“ _That is enough_.” Lucien. I looked up at him despite my bonds, and before I could warn him, he surged for the throne, but he seemed to have a different target than I had. Suddenly he was on the ground like I was, bound with shackles of magic. Despite our power, we couldn't get free. For magic to hold a High Lord like this… I hadn't felt something like this since Amarantha.

Lucien watched Feyre's sister be dragged to the Cauldron in horror, as though he had a personal stake in what happened to her. I realized that _she_ had been who he had been trying to reach.

“Please,” I heard Feyre beg. “Please, I will do anything, I will give you anything. Please — you do not need proof, I am proof that it works. Jurian is proof it is safe.”

The ancient queen looked at her with clear disdain. “You are a thief and a liar. You conspired with our sister. Your punishment should be the same as hers. Consider this a gift instead.” I fought back a growl at the hatred, the entitlement, in the woman's voice.

The girl let out an ear splitting scream despite her gag, breaking my concentration, and with little resistance, was shoved under the water.

The other sister was still fighting, still roaring through her gag, as her sister didn't surface from the Cauldron.

I felt sick. Feyre had few things she cared for from her mortal life, but I knew that despite how they had treated her in that hovel, she loved her sisters and her father. It had been the reason I had given them a boon, restored their fortune so that she wouldn't worry about them, so that she would be content to stay in Prythian. And I had failed her.

I watched as the king bowed to the mortal queens. “Behold.”

No one dared to move as the Cauldron tipped on its side and more water than seemed possible to have been held in it poured out in black, smoky waves. As Feyre's sister washed down the steps and coughed liquid up, breathing heavily.

She struggled to get up, and managed to prop herself up on her elbows and looked straight at Feyre.

The other sister roared from the dais in rage and anguish as Feyre stared at her, stunned. One of the mortal queens gasped.

“So we can survive.”

Feyre fell to her knees, sobbing. What had happened? I couldn't figure it out. She was shivering, her clothes soaked, practically transparent from whatever the smoky liquid was, sticking to her skin and leaving nothing to imagination. I heard some of the guards snickering.

Lucien snarled next to me. “ _Don't just leave her on the damned floor-”_

There was a flash of light in the corner of my eye. I watched as he stalked towards her, crossing the distance between them in a few steps. He knelt next to her carefully, taking off his jacket. She cringed away from it, from him, but still he put it over her shoulders, covering her as best he could. Peeking out from under her hair, I realized, were pointed ears. _High Fae ears._ The Cauldron had Made her, just like we had Made Feyre when Amarantha killed her.

I could hear Feyre's other sister fighting like a wildcat as they dragged her to the Cauldron. I was still lashed to the ground. There was nothing I could do.

 _“Put her under,”_ the king hissed. I looked at the throne. The guards were still fighting her, and managed to get her into the water, save one arm. She pointed at the king, and her meaning was clear; if she lived through her Making, he would regret this. Even the king had the sense to look unnerved. The guards managed to shove her under, and the smoky water stilled to glassy smoothness. I heard Feyre vomit, and despite my bonds turned to see the guards release Rhysand, as he knelt next her and tucked her in close to his chest; as though he actually cared what happened to her sisters or how Feyre felt.

After a long moment, I could see the Cauldron tipping over, its waters threatening to wash over the first sister. Lucien hoisted her out of the way before she was soaked again, despite her resistance, as we waited to see if she had survived too. The king released the magic holding me, and I moved to my feet, snarling at him. That he dared to leash me in such a manner—

Feyre's other sister lay on the stones, but unlike her sister, the Cauldron had Made her features sharper, lethal. The look in her eyes though… if she turned that rage on anyone, she could be a problem. Her face suddenly crumpled into horror and shock. Understanding what had just happened. What she had become.

She was on her feet in the blink of an eye, her speed fast even for a Fae.

“ _Get off her!”_

She slammed into Lucien, grabbing her sister out his arms, and knocking him to the ground with a thud.

She was strong. I could hear her weeping and raging. _“Elain, Elain, Elain,”_ she sobbed, falling to her knees, clutching at the girl like her entire world was crashing around her..

Elain. So that was her name. That had to make the wildcat sister Nesta then.

Nesta was holding Elain in her arms, running her hands over her face, her shoulders, her hair, unable to contain her sobs.

But over Nesta’s shoulder, Elain was staring at Lucien curiously. And he stared at her as though nothing existed except for her.

His hands slackened at his sides. In the centuries I’d known him, I’d never seen Lucien look as dumbstruck as he did now.

“You're my mate,” he whispered.

Nesta whirled around, practically dropping Elain as she stalked up to Lucien and shoved him.

_“She is no such thing.”_

He didn't move an inch. His face was pale as he continued to stare at Elain. She looked at him in confusion and some fear, but clearly was still trying to process everything that had just happened to her. I wasn't even sure she had understood what he had said — what the weight of such a declaration meant.

“Interesting. So very interesting,” the king murmured from his throne. “See, I showed you not once, but twice that it is safe. Who should like to be Made first? Maybe you’ll get a handsome Fae lord as your mate, too.”

The youngest queen stepped forward, looking at all of us as if we were all hers for the choosing.

The king chuckled. “Very well, then.”

“If you're so willing to hand out bargains,” Rhysand said suddenly, drawing my attention, “perhaps I’ll make one with you.” He held Feyre next to him, keeping her close, with no opening for one of us to winnow and grab her without taking him too.

“Oh?” The king seemed interested. Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. Feyre looked lost. There had to be someway to save her — there just had to be.

Feyre suddenly dropped to her knees in a spasm, sobbing, pulling at her hair, gnashing her teeth. A burst of light came off her skin. Rhysand reached for her, trying to figure out what was going on. The panic in his eyes was real. A burst of blinding light filled the room.

As the light faded, she was curled in a ball on the floor, her head in her hands. She slowly unfurled her body, looking confused. As she focused her eyes across the room, at me, her expression softened to one I hadn't seen since before Amarantha had spirited me away Under the Mountain.

“Tamlin?” she breathed.

I felt my heart stop for a moment.

“Tamlin?” Feyre asked again.

I stared at her dumbfounded, not sure if I had heard her right. It was so quiet you could hear blood dripping onto the ground.

She peered at her bloodstained hands, and looked at each of the Night Court in turn. When she got to Rhysand though, she looked horrified and scrambled away from him, to his shock and confusion.

“Tamlin… where—” she faced Rhysand again. “What did you do to me?” She backed towards me, trying to put distance between them. _“What did you do?”_ Her voice guttural, low. Betrayed.

Rhysand shoved his hands in his pockets. “How did you break free?” he purred, his insufferable nonchalance oozing from each word. I narrowed my eyes at him.

What?” Jurian seethed, pushing off the wall where he has been watching everything with amusement, storming towards us.

Feyre turned towards me. “Don't let him take me again, don't let him— don't—” Feyre let out shuddering sobs.

“Feyre,” I said softly. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and shield her from these monsters than had caused her such pain and distress. She only sobbed harder.

“Don't let him take me,” she sobbed again. “I don't want to go back.”

“What did you do to that girl?” The blonde woman spat at Rhysand as she helped Cassian stand upright with some difficulty. He looked pale and drawn, and clearly needed assistance to stand; that he was standing at all with what looked like a significant amount of his blood on the floor was worrisome. She seemed genuinely angry and horrified. I wondered if she had even known the full story when she had kidnapped Feyre.

Rhysand cocked his head, taking Feyre in. “How’d you do it, Feyre?” I was wondering the same thing.

The mortal queens made a wall between us. I watched Feyre carefully as she shook her head. There was something very off about all of this, but I couldn't help the hope that crept into my chest.

But then she said, “Break the bond.”

Rhysand froze, clearly stunned by her demand. She stormed over to the king, dropping to her knees in front of his throne.

“Break the bond. The bargain, the— the mating bond. He— he made me do it, made me swear it—”

“No,” Rhysand said. His voice sounded panicked. I knew he was an excellent actor, but this expression of fear… there was no faking that. I wondered vaguely if he had truly come to care for her while she was his captive. If maybe he had convinced himself that his control over her was actually her feelings. Bastard.

“Do it,” she begged the king. “I know you can. Just—free me. Free me from it.”

 _“No,”_ Rhysand said again. I looked between them. He was clearly breaking, something I had never seen him do in the centuries I had known him.

“No more. No more death — no more killing.” She sobbed through clenched teeth. She looked at her sisters. _“No more._ Take me _home_ and let them go. But no more—please.”

She looked at the Night Court again, looking broken as the words left her lips. “No more,” she said, turning back to me. “Take me home.”

I turned to the king. “Let them go, break her bond, and let's be done with it. Her sisters come with us. You’ve already crossed too many lines.” I didn't like it, but I needed to get Feyre out of here before Rhysand figured out how to control her mind again.

Jurian began to object, but the king merely said, “Very well.”

“No,” Rhysand begged. There was pain in his voice.

Good. I wanted him to suffer for all the evil he had done to Prythian; all the pain he had caused Feyre, the damage he had done to Prythian in Amarantha's name… It was a wonder the king hadn't asked Rhysand to ally with him. But then Rhysand was a wild card — you couldn't trust him.

I snarled at him. “I don't give a _shit_ if she's your mate. I don't give a shit if you think you're entitled to her. She is _mine_ —and one day, I'm going to repay every bit of pain she felt, every bit of suffering and despair. One day, perhaps when she decides she wants to end you, I’ll be happy to oblige her.”

But Rhysand didn't look away from her, as though he didn't hear a word I said. “Don't.”

But she backed away — until she hit my chest. I moved my hands to her shoulders. “Do it,” I said to the king. We had stalled long enough.

“No,” Rhysand said again, his voice breaking. As if he actually cared.

The king pointed at Feyre. And she screamed.

I gripped her arms as she thrashed in pain, her screaming endless, bloodcurdling. And there was nothing I could do about it. I could hear Rhysand roaring, Feyre's name leaving his lips, but I kept my eyes on Feyre only. Suddenly, she stopped screaming.

She’d fainted.

Rhysand panted, looking like his world had cleaved in two. The king looked smug. I held Feyre, but I wouldn't believe she was free until I saw proof.

Feyre began to stir, just enough to let me know she was alive. I ripped the glove off of her left hand. Blank skin. The bargain… the _bond_ he had forced on her was broken. I couldn't believe he’d done it. I felt a weight lifted from my chest. She had saved me from Under the Mountain, and now I had save her from her captors. We were even.

I looked towards those monsters and watched Rhysand crawl back towards his friends— _crawl._ I’d never seen him like this, but I couldn't help but feel satisfaction at the sight. The king merely waved a hand at them. “You're free to go, Rhysand. Your friend’s poison is gone. The wings of the other, I'm afraid, are a bit of a mess.”

Rhysand managed to haul himself up, and all of them stared at us. Covered in blood, enraged. I felt deep down that we were making a mistake, letting them go free… but Feyre had begged me.

I would just hunt them later. I could claim it was an accident if she was upset. It was for Feyre's own safety.

Suddenly, the blonde woman winnowed.

Right in front of Lucien.

She slammed him back with a palm to his chest, knocking him down. He let out a roar that shook the halls as the woman took Feyre's sisters by the hand and vanished. Rhysand took one last, heartbroken look at Feyre before grabbing Cassian and Azriel and vanishing as well. It all happened so fast, I didn't even know what to think.

I could hear the king spewing his wrath at the guards, at Jurian, for not grabbing Feyre's sisters. Lucien was enraged _._

 _“Get her back,”_ he snarled at me, the mate bond driving him, his expression wild, feral even. I looked away.

It was about time he felt the same separation I felt when Feyre was taken from me. Maybe now he’d understand why I had wanted his help and not his opinions.

“Thank you,” Feyre breathed to the king. “Thank you.”

He didn't acknowledge her, merely looking at the human queens, who had moved away in the chaos. “Begin.”

The women moved towards the Cauldron like wolves, their smiles growing as they circled it, one snapping when another pushed her. Useless, weak minded mortals.

Jurian stalked over to us amidst their bickering, laughing under his breath like the crazed lunatic he was. “Do you know what Illyrian bastards do to pretty females?” he said to Lucien. “You won't have a mate left—at least, no one that is useful to you in any way.”

Lucien growled at him, clearly wanting nothing more than to rip his throat out with his bare hands. Suddenly, someone spat at his feet.

Feyre.

“You can go to hell, you hideous prick.” The look on her face was cold, her tone matching perfectly.

Lucien spun towards her, his metal eye whirring and clicking and his russet eye wide. I wondered how much of Rhysand's control had permanently affected her, despite breaking that loathsome bargain. I could only hope that being home would help bring her back to herself.

“We will get her back,” she said quietly. She looked up at me. “Take me home.”

“Where is it?” The king’s voice sliced through the hall. Cold, brutal - nothing like the amused arrogance from before. “You— _you_ were to wield the Book of Breathings. I could feel it in here, with…”

The entire castle shuddered. “Your mistake,” Feyre said simply.

The king’s nostrils flared, his face white with wrath, as he realized he’d been outsmarted. But he blinked, and it was gone. “When the Book is retrieved, I expect your presence here,” he said to me. I didn't respond, and prepared to winnow us back to the Spring Court. We had been away from home long enough, and I was tired of these games.

Feyre looked at them hard, cold as she watched the queens fight over the Cauldron. “I will light your pyres myself for what you did to my sisters.” While it was violent, I couldn't blame her for feeling that way. I would make sure they suffered for harming my love’s family.

And then we were gone, the castle vanishing from view.

We landed on the gravel of the front drive, the sweet scent of home a balm for my soul. “I thought I’d never see it again,” Feyre said as we escorted her to the manor. It was strange to have her back here. But I couldn't contain the joy I felt at having my love back where she belonged.

“I thought you would never, either.”

“It feels—feels as if some of it was a dream, or a nightmare. But… But I remembered you. And when I saw you there today, I started clawing at it, fighting, because I knew it might be my only chance, and—”

“How did you break free of his control,” Lucien said flatly to Feyre. I gave him a warning growl, but he didn't break his skeptical, probing gaze.

“I wanted it—I don't know how. I just wanted to break free of him, so I did.” While it was a vague answer, she had been through so much that it was no wonder that her thoughts were jumbled.

They stared each other down, neither giving an inch. I brushed a thumb over her shoulder, breaking her concentration. She flinched. “Are—are you hurt?” I asked, fearing I had accidentally touched a hidden wound.

“I—I don't know,” she stammered. “I don't...I don’t remember those things.”

But she looked up at me and brushed her hand over my mouth. The hand no longer marred by the stark black curls of that tattoo. “You're real,” she said to him. “You freed me.”

“You freed yourself,” I breathed. Really, she had; I’d just been the trigger. “Rest—and then we'll talk. I… need to find Ianthe. And make some things, very, very clear.” Like if she came near my rooms, I’d have her severely punished.

“I want to be a part of it this time,” she said, halting as I tried to bring her through the front door. “No more… No more shutting me out. No more guards. Please. I have so much to tell you about them — bits and pieces, but… I can help. We can get my sisters back. Let me help.”

I scanned her face. The look in her eyes was sincere, and so I nodded. That kind of inside information from the Night Court was priceless. We might actually stand a chance at taking them down. “We’ll start over. Do things differently. When you were gone I realized… I’d been wrong. So wrong, Feyre. And I’m sorry.” I couldn't even begin to tell her how much. But now we had a chance to make things right, the way they were supposed to be the last time we had returned to the Spring Court in this manner. I’d start by finally making her my beautiful wife.

 

Feyre rested her head on my arm as I slipped it around her and led her toward the house. “It doesn't matter. I'm home now.”

“Forever,” I promised. I would make sure of it.

“Forever,” she echoed, as she glanced behind to look at Lucien and gave him a sleepy smile—Cauldron only knew how exhausted she must be after all that she had been through.

And at long last, as we walked up the sweeping marble stairs of my manor—our home—I finally felt like our happiness was within reach.

Finally, I had won.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought! All comments and suggestions are welcome, & if you have a POV/scene you would really like to see, please let me know! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Also, I have a writing Tumblr! If anyone is interested in talking & discussing ACOTAR, ACOMAF, or giving suggestions/asking questions, I can be found at _<http://kitashiwrites.tumblr.com>_.
> 
> Hope to see you there!


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